Happy Endings Are Not Always Easy
by raok
Summary: Takes place after Season 2, Episode 8. Moray and Denise struggle with their lives of two business owners. Their love is strong, but can it weather the start of Denise's business, and Moray's struggle in sharing ownership of The Paradise with Tom Weston? Rating M for later chapters. Do not own the characters or the original story, all owned by other folks.


It had seemed like such a good idea, Denise accepting the assistance from Mr. Ballantine as a major investor in her beauty store. The dream of building her own brand, of making her own way had a fantasy since she had come to work at the Paradise, and likely before that at least subconsciously. And it had all come as such an ideal time. It would allow the shop to remain in her uncle's name, and afford her the opportunity to grown in ways she could never have staying as the Head of Ladies Wear. And, better still, it would allow her to remain beside John Moray.

What had started as something that brought them even closer together, was creating silence between them. When she had first started work on turning the shop from a draper's store to a beauty collective, she had sought out John's advice. She was keen to drink in all of the knowledge he had about turning around an establishment, revitalizing it. But there was a turning point when his wisdom and history sounded less anecdotal and more like directives, orders. When she went in another direction of displaying perfumes closer to the front door where women could get fresh air to reset their sense of smell before trying another fragrance, rather than heed John's advise of putting the bottles towards the back of the shop where they would not disturb incoming customers with scents others may not be interested in, he took offense. And soon, she found herself hesitating to reach out to him, for fear he would take it if she didn't do as he had done in the past or would do it in the future.

Likewise, John was beginning to feel a sense of unimportance. He was starting to understand how the women before Denise had felt when he had prioritized The Paradise over them. He was proud of the Little Champion he admired for her drive and gusto, but as a man his natural desire to protect and take care of her, sometimes took over his thoughts. It was easy to love Denise, from the moment he saw her he knew. And he allowed himself to take in and breath the essence of her love the moment she confessed her affections. He did not want her to be any other way the majority of the time. But there were moments, when he longed to have her display a need for him, a longing. The way he longed and needed her.

It was long hours and a not-so-easy feat to get a shop up and running, let alone be successful and turn a profit in less than a year. Even when there was more than one person at the helm. He and Dudley had not made a name for The Paradise until two years had gone by, and it was another year after before they were out of the red. He still had a shilling framed from the night he and Dudley had recorded on the books their first profit. And he worried for Denise. He knew she was willful and brilliantly creative, but he worried that if she suffered a similar fate of years without seeing a light at the end of the debt tunnel, she would fall prey to low spirits and feel like a failure even though she was far from it.

Neither had spoken of an engagement since the day she had told him she had received the loan from Mr. Ballantine. He smiled wistfully at the way she had tease that she would propose to him. Certainly not. There were some traditions that no matter how independent of a woman she was, he would not accept. And one of those things was she proposing to him. She deserved to be wooed every day, and to have a proper proposal. He thought back to the day he exclaimed that they should get married straight away. It had been rash, but he couldn't help it. His heart was light for the first time in over three years, and he felt as if he could fly with the love he had for the blonde beauty. But looking back, he knew it wasn't right. He had not gone to her uncle to speak with him first. He had not gotten down on one knee; he'd had no ring. And now the notion of an engagement seemed so far from her mind, he wasn't even sure she had thought of it since that day in front of The Paradise. It was irony at his finest; he had not wanted to marry again until he fell in love with her, and now that he was hopeless for her, she did not appear to want marriage.

As the months went by, they saw each other less. She would go to meet him and he would be out with a merchant, or he would go to see her and she would be in the middle of a meeting with another potential investor. It seemed that Denise was defying every notion of male-bias in the business world. Yes, banks would not give her a loan outright, but through her persuasive business presentations and ability to cultivate the image of the yet-to-be-named store in the minds of those listening, she had turned quite a few men who were known for being stingy with their investments, into full fledged believers in the female run and operated shop.

Denise had never been happier about her future as a business woman and hopefully as a partner in love. She saw the promise of the store in her dreams, and saw having the perfect life; full of success in business and in personal matters. If her mind was not on the store's grand opening, it was on Moray. She longed to be as they once were, so in love, so in tune with each other. But that seemed so long ago, and she knew she was in part to blame for the distance. She had convinced herself that things would get better between them once the shop was open and customers were clamoring to test and buy her products. Despite Moray's warnings, she was convinced she could turn a profit in her first year and keep investors happy. Although she had been conservative and in business proposals, ensured profit within five years. She hoped that after turning a profit and putting in place a full five-person staff she could relax enough to build up the success of a more conventional womanly role: wife and mother. She dreamed almost every night about the store, but she fell asleep each night to thoughts of the family she and he would have. Three children, two girls and a boy. Sarah, Evelyn, and Thomas. All with her blonde hair and his wide brown eyes. The girls would have porcelain skin like their mother and Thomas would look slightly european like his father, with more of an olive complexion. She and Moray had never spoken about children, but she knew he would be a wonderful father. Kind and patient, loving and supportive. Just as he had been all of those things for her./p  
p class="p1"Six months later, Denise laid awake late into the night. It was the day before the grand opening and she could not still her nerves. Everything was as ready as it could be, she knew, and yet she couldn't stop thinking that something was missing. At half past 11, there was a knock on the door, and a barely 5 foot tall Arthur stood with a letter. She smiled and dashed to the bridge where John waited.

She could not stop herself from sprinting into his arms at the sight of him, his hands braced against the pebbled arch. His arms ached for her and he let out a sigh against her neck as he caught her as she flew into his arms. My little dove, he thought to himself. So beautiful, so sensitive, and yet so strong and independent. The pulled apart just enough to look at each other. "I know it's late," he said softly, appreciative of the night and the way her skin almost shimmered against the harvest moon's light. "But I wanted to wish you luck tomorrow morning.

"Will you not come?" She asked. They hadn't discussed it, but she had assumed he would be there to show his support.

"Of course sweetheart, but I don't know that I'll be able to get in my congratulations amidst the hoards of people that will be flocking into the store," he clarified, smiling down at her. How was it possible that she had gotten even more beautiful since he held her this way, so long ago.

She smiled with relief and leaned in to kiss him. The first time their lips had brushed in what felt like weeks.

The following morning came too soon, and she had barely finished putting up her hair when Pauline knocked on the window. Denise had missed the first friend she had made at The Paradise and had written her a month prior to see if Pauline would be willing to move back to the area from Newcastle, where she had moved over a year prior to take care of an ailing aunt. She was thrilled when Pauline agreed - on the condition there would be no birds for sale.

And then there were two.

Her uncle and Ms. Audrey had come to visit for the opening, taking a few days holiday and staying at a nearby inn rather than staying in the cozy quarters of the shop. Ms. Audrey had even offered to help if two sales girls turned out to be too few.

The shop opened promptly at 10 o'clock. A few women were waiting outside with Moray upon opening. John smiled and offered more well wishes before leaving her to tend to the customers. The ladies browsed the store without stopping on any one item for too long, and not requesting assistance at all. In total, they were in the store less than fifteen minutes. After they departed the store was silent for an hour, then two, then four. By 3, they had moved on to setting up a display just outside of the shop, hoping to entice women on their way to or from another store to stop and look at the wares of the new corner emporium. This garnered a moderate amount of attention, but again, not a single purchase.

Feeling dejected, and second guessing herself, Denise closed up shop at 7 on the dot, and declined Pauline's offer to go to the inn to lament. Instead, she went to the man who made her feel adored and cared for. She went across the street.

John was in his office, pouring over the day's figures and debating whether promoting Clara to the head of Ladies Wear was a good decision or a poor one. There was a soft knock on his door. "Come in," he greeted without getting up.

Denise walked through the door, shutting it behind her and leaning against the frame. She could not hide the sadness and disappointment that covered her face; she wasn't sure she was even trying to. John stood immediately and walked over to her. "What is it darling?"

"It…" she began shutting her eyes and willing the tears not to fall. She didn't need to continue and he enveloped her in a strong embrace. The kind that allowed her to melt against him, into him. Her arms wound around his neck, and he supported her fully as she sobbed softly against him. "What if I can't do this, John? What if I got this completely wrong?"

"Shh," he murmured, placing a kiss against her temple. "You have nothing to worry about, darling. The first day is one of the hardest." He pulled back to look at her, wiping a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You, love, were born to do this. You are the most brilliant and willful woman, person," he clarified, "that I have ever known. You emcan /emdo this. You emwill /emdo this, and succeed." He guided her to the red sette in the large room and tucked her into his side. She molded against him perfectly, resting her head against his shoulder as she tucked her legs under her and relaxed. He dragged his finger tips lazily up and down her arm and she wished that she could feel the sensation against her skin rather than through fabric. She could imagine the gesture feeling so much more intimate, potent.

He didn't know what else to say. He knew he had to tread carefully, too much praise and it would seem disingenuous. Too little and it would rattle her, or worse, make it seem that he didn't have every faith in the world in her. "This will sting, today will hurt," he said softly. "But when you have reached the success that you are aiming for, you will thinking of today and remember it with a fond smile, similar to a first crush." Denise lifted her head, smiling a little. "Is that how you feel about the first day you ran The Paradise?" He could only nod, remembering it as if it happened only a few days ago. "I don't think I slept for two days leading up to it. And the day that it happened, Dudley almost had to greet everyone alone, because I looked so exhausted he thought I would scare off anyone that came through the doors." Denise laughed a little. "But you did… welcome customers, I mean." He nodded. "I did. And we had some," he nodded. "Mostly because they were familiar with Emerson's, not because they were interested in what we offered." He paused, resting his head atop hers as she settled back against him. "It took three days to get our first purchase. People couldn't understand how we could claim to be the best in more than one specialty. They were confused by the concept of multiple departments, having high quality goods. The papers accused us of being fraudulent, scamming consumers with promises of high quality without any assurances such as full refunds."

"But you won them over," she added. He nodded. "Yes, in time. And I believe the rise of department stores elsewhere made it easier to seem legitimate, but it was not easy. It's not easy to be a pioneer in retail. You will always have those that are skeptical, that are wary of new business. But I have seen your products, and heard your presentations. Your investors are a testament to your credibility and your potential."

Denise was quite for a few moments before finally speaking up again. "A while ago, I said that once I made my fortune and had my great success, that I would propose marriage to you." John stiffed ever so slightly. "Yes." Denise sat up, looking at him directly. "Could you, that is, would you, entertain a proposal before all of that." A smile spread across his face, and he nodded. "I would have married you the moment I came back from my exile to Paris, love." He kissed both cheeks and finally a chaste kiss on her lips. "I would marry you the moment the churches open tomorrow, if I knew you wanted it."

"I do want it," she stated, meeting his gaze once more.

He smiled playfully. "As do I. However, I don't think either of us are ready for it to be tomorrow, if for no other reason than we both have stores that must open."

She nodded, resting once more against him, feeling her eyes grow heavy. How she longed for the day where the would not have to part at the end of an evening. How she wished she could be held by him through the night.

They sat there until both were near slumber. "Come," he whispered into her hair. "I will walk you to your door."

Part of her wanted to beg him not to leave her tonight, to take her to his bed, to touch her like a woman, like a wife. How she mused how warm his fingers must feel against her cool skin. His lips had felt like heaven against her neck, she could hardly imagine how he would feel against other parts of her. But she remained a lady, and stood, taking his arm. She would sleep alone and dream of a day when that would change.


End file.
